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angel poem

all'interno di questa tomba umile un conqueror si trova
non c'sono nessuna preda io dei pensieri difficili
tempesta
senza sosta
questa ciotola d'argento antica di mine
che cosa era esso i motori detti
diami la fame
bucks neri grassi in una stanza del vino-barilotto
sopra i tetti corra le ombre delle nubi
come un uomo nudo io va
sopra-avevo preparato l'evento
non ci č fuga dal fiume

 



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